


Desire, Want, Need.

by C_AND_B



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_AND_B/pseuds/C_AND_B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin just wants to be kissed at midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire, Want, Need.

**Author's Note:**

> It's pretty much just porn ya'll (also, I haven't written smut in over two years and now I remember why)

She’s flirting with Kevin. She’s flirting with Kevin because it’s New Years Eve, and she’s lonely, and she’s sure as hell not going to admit anytime soon that all of her dreams are overcome with yellow lenses and cocky smirks.

Essentially, on the surface, Erin is flirting with Kevin because she wants to be kissed at midnight. However, if anyone were to really look into the matter, the truth at hand would be that Erin is flirting with Kevin because she can’t stop thinking about Holtzmann. Holtz in her stupid crop top. Holtz dancing around the lab, calculated but careless. Holtz smirking. Holtz calling her name, incessantly but reverently. Holtz’s nimble fingers trembling over-

“Kevin, you’re looking particularly muscular today. Been hitting the gym a lot lately, you know, getting on them gains?” It’s her last ditch attempt of somewhat subtlety - not that any of the earlier lines had been better; most of them were probably worse (highlights included _down under, huh? I bet you know your way around the bush,_ some physics pick up line or another that went straight over his head, and a completely unwarranted ass slap that Kevin thankfully saw as a sporting pat between ‘bros’).

It’s obvious this one hasn’t hit the right chords either because Patty visibly cringes from where she stands, keeping an eye on Holtzmann as she creates some alcoholic concoction or another. But time is running out. There’s one minute to go before midnight and time is running out. She can practically hear the clock counting down in her head. The TV is blaring and suddenly it’s ten seconds.

Ten seconds until she goes another year not being kissed at midnight. Seven seconds until she berates herself for wasting so much time flirting with Kevin who is nothing more than pure muscle and baby soft skin. Four seconds until she spends another three months wondering if Holtzmann flirts with everyone or if Abby is telling the truth when she says it’s just Erin. Three seconds until she has to endure months of knowing how beautiful Holtzmann looks with her hair out of its crazy up-do, and not have the courage to do anything about it.

One second until she’s violently reminded that her mother will spend, yet another year, trying to set her up with suitable (read: utterly dull) men that she wouldn’t choose for herself in a million years, unless possessed by the ghost of a nineteen fifties housewife.

“Someone just kiss me!” It’s a half joke that hits too close to home if the slight desperation in her tone is any indication. Patty just laughs before cracking some joke or another, and Abby is definitely passing judgement in some sarcastic manner, and Holtz is... Holtz is kissing her.

Holtz is kissing her and she freezes.

It’s nothing more than a lingering press of lips at first. It’s nothing more than an acquiescence of the order. It’s nothing more than the engineer wishing to shut her up. It doesn’t mean anything; at least, that’s what Erin tells herself. She tells herself it’s nothing more than Holtzmann taking one for the team, except then she feels hands gripping desperately at her hips, tugging her in closer and it feels like more. It feels like want, and desire, and lust. It feels like completely and totally giving in.

 _It feels inevitable_.

In the end it’s the resulting gasp that echoes from her mouth that is the catalyst. It’s the gasp that spurs the younger woman to apply more pressure. It’s the sudden certainty in the redhead’s hands, as they purposefully caress the other woman’s face that has Holtzmann dangerously trailing her hands beneath a pristinely ironed shirt.

Kissing Holtzmann is like figuring out the equation you’ve been puzzling over for weeks. Kissing Holtzmann is like being drenched in ectoplasm. Kissing Holtzmann is like jumping in a puddle. Kissing Holtzmann is like walking through fire. Kissing Holtzmann is like being simultaneously dunked in an ice bath and wrapped in a blanket. It’s all encompassing, and addictive, and so ludicrously freeing, and Erin’s brain is frying with each passing second that their lips dance across one another.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there, with lips locked and tongues testing tangibility, too enamoured with one another to remember their surroundings. She’s not sure how her hands make their way into perfectly quaffed blonde curls. She’s even less sure how she manages to stay standing as the sharp tug she delivers to the tresses makes Holtzmann produce a stomach twisting moan that reverberates through her bones, taking hostage of her pulse and grinding her heart to a halt.

“I’m happy that ya’ll are finally doin’ something about all this weird repressed tension and shit, but we don’t wanna watch you two gettin’ nasty.” It’s almost violent, the way Erin snaps away at the sound of Patty’s teasing.

“Yeah, guys, at least have the common courtesy to get a room,” Abby adds with a grin, as she wordlessly sticks her hand out in Patty’s direction and is rewarded with a begrudgingly given twenty dollar bill.

No words are spoken about the obvious bet made over their two friends. No words are really spoken at all as Erin finds herself lifted from the floor and carried bridal style into Holtzmann’s makeshift room. Holtzmann laughs maniacally for her audience but softens immediately as her door falls shut behind them, gently placing Erin back on her feet, and allowing her to gain her footing, before she backs away a few steps.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Holtzmann says quickly and Erin falters for a moment. She watches the younger woman’s chest rise and fall with laboured breaths. She watches her fingers twitch restlessly and her eyes dart between the wall and her lips. She watches her put everything she has into controlling herself and she realises she knows the feeling.

Her nails are biting crescents into her palms. Her teeth are stopping her lips from saying something she might regret. Her legs are locked, but trembling, because all she wants is to take the few steps that will bring her back into Holtzmann’s orbit. She wants to kiss her again. She wants to hear her call her name. She wants to know if her bite is as magnetic as her bark.

She wants her.

_God, she wants her._

“What?”

“I just wanted to shock them. Obviously, I would also want to do something, you know, if you did, because you rock bowties like no other and you actually understand the science that I babble about and you dance like a baby deer and it’s adorable and I like you and stuff but I...“ Holtzmann scratches the back of her neck self consciously, her usual bravado slipping into something much tenderer and Erin finds she only wants to kiss her more. “I just want you to be comfortable is what I’m saying.”

It’s not a conscious thought that has Erin pushing Holtzmann onto the bed. It’s not a deliberate scheme that has her kissing her until each tender stroke of a tongue mimics the flames licking at her lungs. It isn’t a calculated plan that has her pinning the engineer’s wrists sharply to the bed or thoughtlessly pushing her thigh higher and higher until Holtzmann gasps and grinds. It isn’t thought out, and like hell if she actually knows what she’s doing, but she wants to touch her. It’s been day after day of wondering what it would be like to _feel_ her for weeks now and she’s not going to waste the opportunity.

Erin Gilbert would never have considered herself a sexual being but she can’t deny that, for the first time in her life, she truly wants. She wants to watch Holtz arch towards her hands. She wants to hear Holtz’s breath catch and hitch and rush. She wants to know what makes Holtz tick.

She wants to studiously map out every inch of Holtzmann’s body till every freckle and scar and stretch of alabaster skin becomes an old friend. She wants to watch Holtz writhe. She wants to be the reason she can’t think straight, or diagonal, or curved – she wants to fabricate a blank slate and carve her name into every corner of Holtzmann’s mind. Her quest begins with a sharp nip at Holtzmann’s lips as the blonde attempts to gain some semblance of control in the situation.

“Dr Gilbert, who knew,” the engineer gasps, her words bordering breathless babble.

“Oh you have _no_ idea,” the physicist replies. She’s not sure where the confidence comes from – probably from the way Holtzmann is gazing up at her with a dangerous mix of lust and adoration that Erin doesn’t quite know what to make of.

Either that, or the way she’s biting her lip like it’s all she can do to not moan at the sheer site of Erin atop her body. It’s invigorating. The sheer want in Holtzmann’s eyes is intoxicating. It’s exhilarating watching her fingers clench and unclench, wondering if her body will finally give into its threat of writhing beneath Erin’s tentative touch.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Holtz breathes and Erin runs her lips along her jaw in an attempt to hide the pleased smirk that takes her face hostage. She places surer kisses along the span of the blonde’s neck, revelling in the slight salt of her skin and the scent of smoke and oil that lingers on her body.

Erin pauses on the rapid pulse that trembles beneath her mouth, sucking ardently and biting sharply when Holtz arches in surprise, slipping her own thigh between Erin’s legs and moaning in tandem with the older woman as the action has her hips bucking.

The action awakens something primal in Holtzmann. The sound that rips from her throat is nothing less than a growl as she tears her hands free from their restraints, using her newfound freedom to rip Erin’s blouse open.

They pause...

The buttons drop like heavy rain on a quiet evening. Erin’s shirt drops silently from her shoulders as Holtzmann’s fingers nimbly rid her of her bra in the same moment.

They pause again...

Erin shifts her legs until she’s straddling Holtz, gasping for air and staring down at her like she’s wondering how on earth they got to this point.

(She is).

“That was, um-“

“Hot? Sexy? The coolest thing you’ve ever seen?” Yes. Yes. And yes. Erin kisses her because Jillian is a dork, and she has this stupidly goofy smile despite the situation, and Erin wants this. It hadn’t occurred to her how much until now, as Holtz’s calloused hands touch her bare waist, and as she kisses with lips that taste simultaneously like salt and sugar. Erin wants this. She kisses her harder with lips and teeth and tongues and sweet nothings in the form of greedy hums and mumbled moans.

Holtzmann’s own shirt is on the floor a second later, thankfully intact, unlike Erin’s sanity as she realises the younger woman isn’t wearing a bra. She isn’t wearing a bra and she has her nipple pierced and Erin hadn’t noticed that it was a thing she found hot until this second; until this second in which she could barely breathe through the lust. This second in which her fingers never dared to shake as they tentatively fiddled with the silver bar.

Holtzmann moans and she ducks her head because she needs to know what she tastes like. She needs to know how the bar feels against her tongue - the cold metal fighting against the heat of her nipple. She needs to know. She needs to touch. She needs to taste. She thinks she needs to hear Jillian call her name more than anything, but then Holtzmann catches her face with warm palms, and she knows what she really needs is for her to need it too.

“Sorry, too much, too fast?” She grimaces because she doesn’t want to pressure her. This was quick. This was rushed. But it also wasn’t. She had been thinking about it for weeks, and Holtzmann had been flirting for months, and even if she hadn’t paid attention to it before, this had been building since she walked into that college lab and found herself charmed by a woman who wore gloves under gloves.

“No, no, no, I definitely want more and sooner, I just. I really want you. I do. I just- Are you sure?” Erin kisses Holtzmann softly because she can see the genuine fear in her eyes, the honest question, and the real confusion over the fact that Erin wants this too. She gently pushes the engineer until she’s fully reclined on the bed and allows her mouth to do the talking.

The bar is cold against her tongue. Holtz’s hands are rough in her hair. The blonde is pliable beneath her mouth and her hands, and she kisses her way across her chest before pulling the neglected nub with her teeth, and marking her place on Jillian’s surprisingly unmarred skin.

Erin finds herself tugged back up for another kiss as the third bruise prepares to take its place. She smirks proudly against the other woman’s mouth until the bite delivered to her bottom lip is punctuated with the subtle taste of iron filling her mouth. It probably shouldn’t turn her on so much, or, at least, it shouldn’t add to the arousal already coiling and swirling in her stomach.

It does.

It makes her legs quiver, and her body erupt in goosebumps, and it has her fingers grazing just under the band of Holtzmann’s pants. She views the resulting shiver as permission, and haphazardly rids the younger woman of the last of her clothing in one fell swoop, before she can fearfully talk herself out of it.

“Last chance to back out Gilbert because if you do that I’m never gonna be the same again.” Her eyes are clenched tightly shut, her lips parted slightly as clumsy breaths stumble from her lungs, her throat bobs audibly in the silence as Erin takes it in, as Erin smiles at the woman laid bare, both literally and figuratively, beneath her and knows that all she wants is to change and be changed by her (because she already has been in a million conceivable and inconceivable ways).

Erin’s fingers slide easily through her folds and it’s only then that she notices how wet Holtzmann is. She can see the faint mark on her thigh where Holtzmann had ground down, and she can smell it in the air, and doesn’t think she can simply exist the same way she used to now that she knows what Holtzmann feels like, or what she sounds like as Erin traces her fingers through once again before curiously placing her fingertips in her mouth and tasting the blonde against her tongue.

It’s not like she expects. It’s not like they portray it in the media but she likes it. She likes the pure unadulterated taste of Jillian Holtzmann on her lips and she wants more.

“Yep, irreversibly changed,” Holtz jokes in shaky vowels and shuddering consonants. She’s blinking up at Erin in awe, and the redhead almost blushes, until she’s being kissed like she’s the antidote to some fatal poison and she forgets all about being nervous, forgets about anything that isn’t the naked woman on the bed.

“What do you like?” It sounds seductive. Erin knows that, somewhere along the lines, the insecure question husked out of her throat as something far dirtier than she had imagined it, but she tries not to flinch. She tries not to show that she honestly has no idea what she’s doing because, of course she’s done this to herself, but never another woman and she wants it to be good. She wants to make Holtzmann beg, and scream, and jolt beneath her until she’s nothing but an ineffably beautiful mess.

“Definitely liked that.”

“Dirty talk, huh?” Erin hums, throwing caution to the wind, allowing her middle finger to circle the smaller woman’s clit, following a steady pattern until Holtzmann’s hips are twitching and she decides to experimentally plunge her fingertip into the building heat, pulling out quickly and basking in the way Holtz’s hips buck for friction. She repeats the tease a few times, watching Holtzmann gasp and groan and twitch in a half-hearted attempt to get Erin to just finally do something.

It’s on the fourth repetition, as she watches Holtzmann’s mouth attempt to form some mumbled plea, that she thrusts two fingers in fully, curling them in a come-hither motion.

“ _Jesus, Erin.”_

“I love the feeling of you clenching around my fingers. God, Jillian, you’re practically dripping.” It’s Erin’s turn to gasp as Holtzmann palms her ass and heaves her further into her embrace, they both moan lowly as her knuckles graze coarse curls, and Erin finds a hard steady rhythm, propelling herself through the burning in her forearm as she feels Holtz soak her palm.

Erin’s thumb on Holtzmann’s clit is clumsy and unpractised, but the other woman makes no complaints as she twitches and twists and paints Erin’s name across the redhead’s lips, calling out in a hoarse tone that surely can’t be legal in all states. Erin kisses Holtzmann harshly one last time before trailing her lips along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, her stomach, her thighs.

“I can’t wait to taste you properly.” Her tongue takes the place of her thumb a second later and she pulls her fingers free from their sheath at a torturous pace in order to restrain the bucking hips. It isn’t long before she feels Holtzmann’s fingers harshly grip at her hair, and tastes her juices flowing generously onto her tongue. She watches Holtzmann silently cry out, arching off the bed before collapsing back down firmly. She doesn’t stop the gentle pace of her tongue until Holtzmann relaxes completely and pulls Erin lips back to her own.

“This isn’t how I pictured this evening going,” Erin comments quietly and braces herself when a goofy smirk plasters itself across Holtzmann’s face.

“At least we started the New Year with a bang.”

“I hate you,” Erin responds, but it has no heat, and she’s laughing at the sheer pride on Jillian’s face until she watches her smile turn coquettish, and finds it dies quickly in her throat, catching alongside her breath.

“You won’t be saying that in two minutes.”

“Two minutes? Someone’s confident,” Erin jokes but she has almost as much confidence in the statement as Holtzmann because she’s acutely aware of the arousal coiling in her stomach, and the dampness between her thighs from simply watching Holtzmann come apart.

She pushes out a breathy laugh as she’s flipped onto her back. She tries for a nonchalant expression as her pants are stripped lazily from her body, but the smirk on Holtzmann’s face tells her she fails tremendously (she honestly can’t bring herself to care).

“Someone has a right to be.” It’s arrogant, and assertive, and Erin needs Holtz to be touching her already because she feels like her entire being is on fire and her brain is too frazzled to try and contain it.

“ _Prove it_ ,” Erin challenges, punctuating the‘t’ with a choke as Holtzmann easily slides two fingers into her without any preamble. There’s no hesitation in the pace that Holtzmann sets. There’s no question in the curls, or the flicks, or the precision. Every movement seems calculated. Every thrust is sure. Everything about it is practised and assured and Erin can already feel herself losing it.

 _She can’t think_. Holtzmann sucks at her neck, and nips and repeats the motion without pause, and Erin knows she’ll be covered in purple marks tomorrow, but she’s doesn’t care. _She can’t think_. Holtzmann’s free hand runs along her thigh, and her stomach, and her breasts, and blunt nails draw shapes all along her body and she can’t breathe. _She can’t think_. Holtzmann rolls her nipple between thumb and forefinger before hot lips wrap around the bud, and Erin knows her resulting moan is too loud, but she doesn’t care. _She can’t think._

Holtzmann’s hands are everywhere and it’s not enough. She wants more. She needs more. She can’t breathe without moaning, and her legs are trembling, and Holtzmann only pumps her fingers faster like she knows exactly what Erin is thinking.

She comes with soft expletives and rough jerks, but Holtzmann decides it isn’t enough, replacing her fingers with her tongue, languidly stroking Erin until she’s calling her name out again with a level of reverence that she’s never experienced before.

“ _Holy smokes,”_ Erin gasps as they both lay staring up at the ceiling.

“Unfortunately it was two minutes thirty six seconds, but since you came twice I’m calling it a cool minute eighteen.” Holtzmann raises her hand and Erin blames the post-coital haze for the fact that she actually high-fives the appendage.

“Good game, team,” Erin jokes, smiling contentedly as Jillian pulls her into her side, embracing her tenderly. “Your heart is beating really fast,” she notes after a minute or two from her place resting on the engineer’s naked chest.

“You may have forgotten that you’re naked, Gilbert, but I certainly have not and I am a _huge_ fan of what goes on under those tiny bow ties. Also, I’ve maybe, you know, wanted this for a while and I think the old ticker is still freaking out that it actually happened.” Erin smiles hard, ducking her head into the crook of Holtzmann’s neck in an attempt to smother it before it blinds them both.

“I’m glad.”

“You’re glad that my heart could give out at any second?” Holtz ask with mock outrage, crying out genuinely when Erin pinches her side because she’s trying to be serious, because she doesn’t want this to be a onetime thing. She wants Holtzmann. She wants her kooky dance moves, and her overly complicated hairdo, and her ridiculous devices that do nothing more than crack walnuts open.

“No, I- I wanted this too. For a long time. Longer than I thought.”

“How long?” Holtzmann tries for indifference but they can both hear the genuine wavering of her tone as she curiously awaits the answer.

“I thought it was a post-almost-apocalypse thing but I’ve realised it’s maybe more of a ‘ _since you did that ridiculous blowtorch dance to DeBarge_ ’ thing,” Erin concludes.

“Ha, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you so I win.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I would win though.”

“What prize do you want?” Erin asks.

“Oh, that’s a good question.” Holtz ponders seriously for a moment. The hand not pulling Erin into her side, taps thoughtfully against her chin.

“I have a suggestion if you’re up for it?” Erin smirks as she watches goosebumps furiously track her fingertips, creating trails along Holtzmann’s abdomen. She dares her hand to dip lower before lips capture hers happily and a decisive, “yes” is written onto her tongue.

Erin knows that they’ll have to deal with Abby and Patty’s incessant teasing in the morning but she honestly couldn’t care less.

It was totally worth it.


End file.
